


Tense

by tarysande



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarysande/pseuds/tarysande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she turned her head slowly, determined not to scream or cry or make any more a fool of herself than she’d done already, she saw not Knight-Captain Cullen and a battalion of armed and armored templars, but one dark-haired, smirking pirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tense

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Women of Dragon Age challenge

 

When the hand came down on Bethany’s shoulder, she jumped as she swallowed a yelp of surprise, already preparing herself for the worst. It took all her willpower not to react with a fireball or a startled blast of ice.

Not that either could save her now.

That was the problem with templars.

Ever since the moment on the Wounded Coast when things had gone so wrong with Wilmod, and she’d ever so obviously and ever so foolishly betrayed herself and her magic to the blighted _Knight-Captain_ , she’d been waiting for this. To be fair, she’d been expecting it to come sooner, and to come as a heavy knock on Gamlen’s door and not as a confrontation in the middle of the marketplace with dozens of bystanders, but she’d been expecting it nonetheless.

Part of her was almost— _almost_ —glad the waiting was finally over.

But mostly she couldn’t help wondering how much she was going to miss her freedom.

However, when she turned her head slowly, determined not to scream or cry or make any more a fool of herself than she’d done already, she saw not Knight-Captain Cullen and a battalion of armed and armored templars, but one dark-haired, smirking pirate.

“Tense, sweet thing?” Isabela asked, giving Bethany’s shoulder a brief squeeze, the friendliness of the gesture somehow more honest than the teasing flirtatiousness of the pirate’s tone. “Need help with that?”

“Isabela,” Bethany breathed with as much reverence as she’d ever whispered a prayer to the Maker, lightheaded with relief. She blinked and wavered on her feet as the world swam a little before her eyes. Stepping close, Isabela wrapped an arm firmly about her waist. Bethany let herself lean into the support just long enough to catch her breath, already feeling her racing heartbeat begin to settle. When her blood stopped pounding in her ears and her knees no longer felt like they were about to betray her, Bethany pulled away. Isabela kept one hand at Bethany’s elbow instead of letting her arm drop completely. It was a light touch, and yet Bethany felt all the better for it. Releasing her held breath, she said, “You scared me.”

Isabela arched one dark eyebrow. “I do have _eyes_ , kitten. Why so skittish?”

Bethany shook her head. “I… I did something stupid a little while back. I keep waiting for the inevitable repercussions.”

The second eyebrow rose to meet the first, but Bethany didn’t quite miss the strange look in Isabela’s eyes. It disappeared almost as quickly as Bethany noticed it, but not so swiftly she couldn’t give it the name _panic_. For some reason it made her want to reach out and touch _Isabela’s_ elbow, but she didn’t. She didn’t think Isabela would appreciate the gesture the same way she had. 

“Accidentally set something on fire?” Isabela asked, and a hint of barely-perceptible strain lingered beneath the forced lightness. “Not some _one_ , I hope? Unless they deserved it. I can think of a person or two I’d like to scorch the eyebrows off of.”

Bethany couldn’t bring herself to smile. Just because it hadn’t been the Knight-Captain _this_ time, and just because he hadn’t—for some incomprehensible reason—seen fit to come collect her _yet_ , it didn’t mean she was safe. If any of her father’s lessons had made an impression, it was that one. An apostate was _never_ safe. To forget that was to invite capture. Constant vigilance was paramount. 

Of course, his first rule had been, “Never, ever, _ever_ use magic where a templar might see or sense it, unless you’re willing to kill for your freedom or be taken to the Circle, Bethany. Never. Ever.”

She’d already broken that one rather spectacularly. And constant vigilance probably included not visiting the marketplace alone, no matter how rare it was to see templars there. Bethany frowned. Even _knowing_ the Knight-Captain was aware of her existence—and oh, he _knew_ —she’d grown too complacent, too trusting.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he was waiting _for._

Realizing she’d taken too long to answer, Bethany lifted her shoulders in a weak shrug. “It wasn’t an accident, really. You, ah, have you been to the Gallows? With my sister?”

“You set something on fire in the _Gallows_? You’re a braver woman than I.”

At this Bethany’s lips did quirk into a very faint smile. “Not quite, no. I, uh, I was with Marian when she went out to the Wounded Coast looking for a lost templar recruit. Stupid, probably. I should’ve known better. _She_ should’ve known better. Father would’ve knocked our heads together. Anyway. I went. And… we ran into some trouble. And the Knight-Captain was there.”

“You didn’t burn _his_ eyebrows off, did you?”

Bethany shot Isabela a horrified look. “Of course not.”

“He has fine eyebrows. It’d be a shame to lose them.”

“Isabela _._ ”

“Seems the type to be hiding any number of fine things under all that plate. And those skirts.”

“ _Isabela!_ ”

The pirate waved off Bethany’s protest, her smirk broadening into a grin. “So the _fine_ Knight-Captain saw you wiggle your fingers and make—”

“The sky rain fire,” Bethany interjected miserably. Isabela’s smile faded on a sympathetic wince. “It’s just… there were _shades_. And we were outnumbered. Marian took a bad hit, and so did the Knight-Captain, so I healed them.”

Isabela turned maddeningly perceptive eyes on her, and Bethany felt the creeping heat of a blush rise in her cheeks. “Letting him die would have solved your problems.”

“Yes.”

Isabela’s eyebrows twitched again. “And yet?”

Bethany glowered. “And yet.”

Tossing her hair over one shoulder, Isabela tilted her head and rolled one shoulder nonchalantly. “I can hardly blame you. Waste of perfectly fine… eyebrows.”

“It… it really wasn’t that.”

Isabela tapped Bethany’s elbow and gave her a strangely gentle smile. “I know that, kitten. I see you. You’re not entirely invisible in your sister’s shadow.”

Sighing, Bethany bowed her head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Before Isabela could say more, Bethany added, “I think she’s hunting mercenaries on the Wounded Coast. If you were looking for her. I… I should head back to Gamlen’s. This morning’s proven that much.”

Again Isabela met her gaze, and again Bethany had the uncomfortable feeling the other woman saw entirely too much. “I _was_ looking for your sister, but it’s just as well I found you instead. It seems you need me more.”

This startled a strained laugh from her. “I need you?”

“Oh, yes. More than you know.” Isabela looped her arm through Bethany’s and nudged her with her shoulder. “Not like _that_ , sweet thing. Though, if you’re—”

“I’m not,” Bethany choked out, her cheeks burning even hotter. “You’re… you’re incorrigible, Isabela.”

“I should hope so. Now. First things first, kitten. Hanged Man. Drink.”

“It’s not even noon.”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “You can have tea. I’m thirsty. And there’s thirsty work to come.”

“What’s the second thing… second?”

Breaking into a grin so infectious Bethany couldn’t help echoing it, Isabela flung her arm around her shoulders and pulled her near. “Why, second thing second, kitten, is that I’m going to teach you every bloody thing a girl needs to know about getting out of impossible situations. Your sister’s a lovely girl, and doubtless a very good protector, but even she can’t be around all the time. She’s not here now, and you nearly wet yourself when I tapped your shoulder. Hawke’s bold and brave and obnoxiously forthright, but she doesn’t know the first thing about _subtlety_ , does she?”

Bethany shook her head.

“Do you know how to pick a lock? Scale a wall in the dark? Slip through shadows without alerting anyone you don’t want to alert?” On Bethany’s aghast look, Isabela chuckled. “Oh, don’t give me that. You can learn.”

“I can… learn,” Bethany repeated, not quite raising the words into a question, but still utterly disbelieving.

Isabela’s expression, and her tone, held no hint of jest as she said, “It’s better not to rely entirely on the familiar. A templar may be able to take your power, but he can’t keep you if you know how to run without using it.” She huffed another brief laugh. “To hear him tell it, Anders escaped the Circle seven times, and I don’t think he has it in him to be _half_ the rogue you could be. You’ve a delectably trustworthy face. They’ll never see you coming.”

“Or… going?”

Isabela snorted. “Precisely.”

Bethany took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. Perhaps not _all_ the tension drained from her shoulders, but she certainly felt lighter than she had since that moment on the Wounded Coast. Glancing up at Isabela, she smiled her first truly genuine smile in ages. “But… first things first.”

The pirate laughed so loudly half the marketplace turned to stare at them. Instead of shrinking from their gazes, fearing reprisal or recognition or capture, Bethany straightened her shoulders. Not aggressively, not _defiantly_ , but not hiding, either. Isabela’s shoulders were always straight, and her chin always lifted. After a moment, the startled townsfolk merely shrugged and went back to their business.

“Oh, yes,” Isabela said, when she’d reined in her mirth. “Oh, yes, kitten. You’ll do just fine.”


End file.
